So We Can Start Over Again
by terribleterribleterrible
Summary: It's finally happened. Murdoc is dead and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. Or is there? After realizing that he's made a mockery of life and isn't ready to give up his soul just yet, Murdoc strikes one last deal with the devil so that he can start again and make his fortune on his own. My god he has no idea what he's gotten into. (Studoc, rated M in later chapters)
1. Deals With the Devil

'**Ello. So this is my first Gorillaz fic and I hope you like it (this is basically the set up theres a lot more stuff to come) ^^**

Deals With The Devil

It was dark. Incredibly dark within the folds of the bogeyman's cloak. Well, at least that was where he presumed he was, considering how not two minutes ago he had faced off with the demon himself. Murdoc tensed, refusing to accept his fate and wishing beyond belief that he would be released before he was presented to Satan.

To be honest, Murdoc didn't know why he wanted to avoid this so much. It just didn't feel right to die now, like he hadn't done enough or what he was born to do was never completed. Then again, what was he born for? It had to be fame and fortune, like he had lived. He had sold his soul for the opportunity, and now it had finally come back to haunt him.

Suddenly, there was a crack of light in the darkness. Intense cold took over Murdoc's very being, chilling his bones, and he shivered. He shivered as he was thrust forward into the light and found himself kneeling on a cold metallic floor. Thin streams of icy water ran across the metal surface, slowly rising in the silence until the liquid came up to his chest. The cold seemed to wash away his fear and anger, carrying it away in the frozen river surrounding him.

He couldn't look up. It was too cold to move, and the room was too bright. Then and there, he accepted that he was going to die in this cold metal room. Apathy took him over, and slowly Murdoc let himself lean forwards into the water, encasing himself in the icy torrent.

It could have been hours that he let himself freeze in there, feeling nothing short of grief. It was over. He was dead, and this was the end. No more fame, girls and money. No more Gorillaz. No more Murdoc Niccals.

"Are you ready?"

Her voice was soft, how you would imagine an angel's voice to be, distorted yet distinguishable even through the heavy flow of water. A gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder, forcing him to rise from the water, and it continued to do so until Murdoc was on his feet. He noticed that as he stepped out of the water, he was no longer wet, only cold. It was only then that he looked up.

It had to be said, the angel greatly resembled the photos he had seen of his mother almost to an alarming extent. Soft, golden hair and deep chocolate eyes. Murdoc had had her eyes before his meth problem. He had had her nose, too, before it got broken. He found it ironic how the only parts he had inherited from her got ruined.

Not particularly looking forward to whatever came next, Murdoc nodded slowly, allowing her to guide him through a light grey curtain that he only now noticed in front of them.

The place they had walked into was not extravagant, nor mystical or heavenly or anything of the sort. It was an office. An office with cream walls and an ugly grey carpet, a dark mahogany desk standing in the centre.

Behind said desk sat a man. He was average in appearance, quite tall and quite thin, slick black hair and wearing a sharp black suit. The only abnormality was his deep crimson eyes, which gave Murdoc a very good idea of who he was.

"Murdoc Faust Niccals. Take a seat. It's nice of you to finally show up. Your poor mother's been waiting forty seven years for you , it would be polite of you acknowledge her." His voice was like velvet.

The fact that he was speaking directly with Satan himself was a great privilege by Murdoc's standards. However, the woman next to him apparently being his real mother sent chills through him. He had heard many stories about this woman, granted mostly from his lying drunk father, but the ones he heard from Hannibal were presumably true. Like that she had attempted to kill him as a baby and insisted that he stay with her in the asylum.

He briefly nodded her way "Mum." He bitterly ground out, speaking for the first time since his death. He was not expecting a pair of arms to throw themselves around his neck.

"My Murdoc, my baby." She whispered into his ear. He could practically feel the crazy radiating from her. It was unnerving.

"I tried to take you with me, back in the hospital, but they pulled you away. They took you out of the bath tub. I wouldn't let them take me, but I couldn't hold on to you. I'm so sorry, so sorry you had to wait so long…"

Was she crying? Yes, she was crying into Murdoc's shoulder. The grief in her words shook him greatly. Finally meeting your dead mother and having her confess to your attempted murder wasn't exactly what he had wanted out of death. Perhaps a means of escape from the crazies out in the real world? Yes.

Satan was watching them carefully "You know, she asked me very specifically for the water. _Begged _me is more accurate. She wanted your final departure to be initially through drowning, like she had wanted in the first place, and I think it's a nice touch." The idea scared Murdoc to no end. The woman was completely insane, but circumstances didn't let him want to push her off. She was his _mother_, and it was nice to finally have a parent who wanted him around, no matter what the reason was.

"So I weren't dead before?" He asked, face falling to misery when the demon nodded "But I am now?"

"Yes, Murdoc Nicclas. And there's the matter of your soul…" The red eyed demon focused on the various papers on his desk, shuffling though them and picking out certain contracts and balance forums that applied to Murdoc and the situation. A bead of sweat was running down the bassist's neck. This was the part he had always dreaded.

When a human being lost their soul, it didn't mean immanent death. Well, it depended on what you called living. The soul is what makes a person feel, be able to experience thought and express it through actions. People without souls were empty husks, devoid of emotion and able only to feel physicality. It was pain or nothingness for those without a soul, and the idea of losing himself scared Murdoc to no end.

"It's very valuable, you see." Satan leaned across the desk, and pushed his mother off his shoulders, letting her fall back into her seat.

"Being famous and well known by most of Earth's population increases value greatly, but you knew that when you promise me your soul in the first place, didn't you? You wanted to be worth something, and here you are."

"And then there's your childhood to take into account. Born in an insane asylum, mother tried to kill you, abusive father and brother, neglected, beaten, starved, and every person who ever showed you any compassion has left. Diana, if I have read this correctly, your father's girlfriend when you were eight years old, promised she would take you with her when she left. Whatever happened with that? And here I even see an account of molestation on the part of a fifty year old dinner lady… tsk tsk. There are some bad people out there, Murdoc Niccals. It just so happened they were the only ones around when you were growing up."

"But in your adult life, you ended up being just like the people you were raised by. I do believe the impact you had on one Stuart Pot was less than acceptable. His soul's worth is added to yours, as technically by the laws of the spirits he belongs to you. He will join us when we are ready to proceed to the trading of souls."

Murdoc's knuckles were white from gripping the chair. He never let anybody bring up his childhood. It did things to him, and he just couldn't stop once he started, and the dig on Stuart and his soul was getting to be too much for him.

"Why does he belong to me? He never signed no contract. Never even brought it up with the bloke."

"Because, Murdoc Niccals, he looked up to you in a way that is considered very rare. He thinks you saved his life. He devoted the rest of it trying to make your band successful, and even through your nasty attitude and constant arguing he loved you. Yes, Murdoc Niccals, he_ loved_ you, as if you were his own family."

This was surprising. After all the crap he gave the guy, 2D still actually liked him. _No, loved him_, Murdoc thought. It was weird to think such a thing. He definitely had never had such feeling towards the singer.

"There is also the matter of destroying the innocence of Chidori Kimura. If you hadn't been an influence on her she wouldn't have come to Hell, and would have led a more natural life. All in all your existence has caused her nothing but pain. She still has night terrors Murdoc Niccals. She's emotionally ruined and you taught her that mental doctors are psychos themselves so she's never bothered to seek professional help. But she's tough, twelve years of living with you has taught her to keep to herself. Well done."

If he was uncomfortable before, now he was on the verge of crying. That had to be Noodle he was talking about. He hadn't even caught her real name while the demon was speaking, but he knew it was Noodle. Murdoc never cried, but this was really starting to push it.

"The exorcism performed on mister Russel Hobbs, causing him a mental breakdown and years of depression. The mutation of his genes while attempting to find you. These are your fault. If you hadn't made him famous, no attention would have been brought to his possession or mental state, and he would be living a happier, healthier life now. Don't even for a minute think that making these people famous had done them any good. Fame is what's killing them."

"The same cannot be said for a miss Paula Cracker. When your album Plastic Beach was released she was going through a hard time, and I've linked back her depression to her leaving your band. She's never gotten over that, you know, and she's killed herself. Yes, that's right, through mental analysis technicalities you are held responsible for her suicide."

"You've caused so much pain in this world. Born from hate and spewed into hate, you lead a life made up from pure hate. You are a bad person Murdoc Niccals, and now you must give to me your soul."

"Mum. Leave." He whispered. He received a hurt look as she scampered out of the office through a small mahogany door. He was shaking. He was going to be sick. Hearing all of this now was too much. He was going to cry. Murdoc was going to cry

But he didn't. He hadn't cried since his eighteenth birthday, when he finally got his driving licence and left home for good, but even then those were maniacal tears of mixed happiness, anxiety and fear. This was grief. This was a severe case of depression that was coming on with the realisation that he was, in fact, a bad person.

"Look, Satan," He started. He stalled for a second as the demon seemed to pull his bass, El Diablo, from this air and he winced as the neck was snapped "begging aint my business. You know that. But please, there's gotta be another way. Can I change it? Any of it? Can I at least get Stu out of the deal?"

The demon shook his head slowly "His soul belongs to you on a technicality, if you go then so does he."

"Can I renounce the oath?" At this point Murdoc was going out on a guess. He had a theory in mind but wasn't entirely sure that he could follow through with it. Satan seemed interested now, cocking an eyebrow for the bassist to continue "If I, uh, gave it all up. The fame and that. If I wasn't in a world famous band, could I keep my soul? And Stu's too?"

A puzzled look crossed the demon's face, and he almost jumped out of his seat in a rush to search the papers on his desk. Finally finding what he was looking for he read intently for a few minutes before looking up. His expression was one of intrigue and irritation.

"Your soul is very valuable Murdoc Niccals, I hope you understand that. For this kind of opportunity you will be trading my blessing of your music. I will set back time to before you started Gorillaz, Stuart Pot will remain with you through the ownership technicalities, but I cannot guarantee how he will react this time around."

He really couldn't believe it. He was getting a second chance! Nobody got a second chance. Nobody.

"Thank you Satan, sir, really, I promise I'll do better this time round." And he was almost in tears again. He felt so out of character it was unreal. This want like him at all, and Murdoc scolded himself for being such a wuss.

The demon scrunched his nose "Why would I want you to do better? Now stand up."

Murdoc stood, anxious and sort of excited about his second chance. Satan stood too, walking around to the front of the desk where it revealed that he did not have human legs, but that of a ram.

"I'm going to put your mind with all its memories into the mind of yourself in 1998. The only part you won't remember is the music you made, because my musical blessing gave you the ability to produce it at such a high standard. If you really do the world any good I may have to send some souls back up. This is such an ordeal, you know. You couldn't just go quietly."

Close to shaking in anticipation, Murdoc could not speak as Satan placed his hand around his neck, the hand a fiery presence and so different to the water he had drowned in earlier "Your mother may have to wait a while longer for you to come home." The demon muttered. The grip got tighter, and suddenly Murdoc panicked. He couldn't breathe. Not at all. Black spots danced before him, clouding his vision as he clawed at the hot hand around his neck. The stoic face in front of him remained unchanging as his vision went completely dark.

Murdoc's body fell limp to the floor, slowly flaking away on the carpet. Soon there wasn't anything left, only the shadow of the demon standing in front of empty space. Feeling a change in the atmosphere, Satan rushed back to his desk to check the files he kept of Murdoc's life. He stopped and stared.

"That's… something." He said out loud to himself "Different. Very different."

He sighed and made his way over to the phone on the wall. It was time to send some souls back up. And take a few down, at that.

Murdoc woke up to the sound of people screaming and a loud car horn right next to his ear.

Snapping his head upright, he discovered he was the one causing the dreadful noise by resting his head on the steering wheel. Steering wheel? Damn, he hadn't seen this car in years…

_Wait_, he thought, _oh shit._

Only now noticing the shattered windscreen and trail of blood across the car park, Murdoc realised exactly where he was.

A long, blue haired body was twitching about forty metres in front of the car. It slowly pushed itself up, arms shaking with the effort. The sky opened up, rain pouring down onto its skinny form as it finally stood upright. Many of the people watching screamed as the zombie-like boy come back to life.

And then it turned around.

Blood pouring from one damaged eye socket, the other eye completely blacked out. A grin wide enough to show off the missing front teeth. Murdoc was seeing this for the first time all over again, and he was rather fond of the memory. He couldn't help that he got excited at the final reawakening of 2D. The zombie-like form walked its way over to the car, leaning on the bonnet with large hands and smiling into the shattered windscreen.

"'Ello." He shuddered before promptly passing out. Murdoc practically threw himself out of the car, grabbing 2D's comatose body and pushing it into the passenger seat. He drove off frantically, for once actually happy to be in the presence of the blue haired singer. _Well he's not a singer yet_, thought Murdoc fondly.

Quickly scolding himself for getting all sentimental and soppy, he pulled into where he was pretty sure he lived right about now, which was a rundown block of flats in the middle of an industrial estate. Nice.

_Right, I have one singer, and I know where to buy Kong studios. Now to just kidnap Russel, send out an order for one Asian axe princess and have my fame and fortune without giving up my soul,_ He convinced himself _Brilliant._

But we know full well that Murdoc has no idea what he's gotten into.

**So watcha think? I know this story's started out pretty dark. In fact, this is really bleak by my standards I got sad writing it. I promise it'll be less depressing from here on.**

**Murdoc really doesn't know what it meant when Satan gave him musical blessing. There is so much that that relied on **_**oh my god do I have plans for this story**_**. Please review really it makes me happy to know people read thing I write ^^ xoxoxoxoxo**


	2. Living Conditions

**Oh my god thank you so much for all the reviews I really wasn't expecting so many :* I give you a shiny new chapter. It feels kinda psychotic to me but idk these characters were made to be pretty crazy in themselves. I'll just leave the opinions out to the public ^^**

Living Conditions

It was about 10 O'clock at night when Stuart hobbled into the apartment, wielding a supportive cane to use in case he was still too weak after a year of immobility. He carefully sat himself on the dirty sofa, brushing some stray ash and cigarette butts onto the floor as he did so. Murdoc slammed the door behind him as he walked in, making a beeline straight to the liqueur cabinet.

"Nice of yer parents to let you come live with me, eh two-dents?" He grinned, checking what he had in storage and immediately becoming irritant at the lack of rum. Did he not drink rum back then? Better go fix that, he thought, instead pulling out a half drunk bottle of JD.

"Yeah, I guess." 2D mumbled absently. His lack of enthusiasm since he woke up was really grating on Murdoc's nerves. It had been a month since 2D woke up, and only now were they living together. They were behind schedule.

Before, if he remembered correctly, Stuart had jumped at the opportunity to be in Murdoc's band and practically worshipped the ground he walked on. This time he had come close to begging the blue haired singer to stay with him. This wasn't right. Didn't 2D love him or something? Like Satan had said?

_Well he doesn't know you yet,_ the little voice in the back of Murdoc's head reminded him,_ you haven't given him a reason to love you._

That last bit had been both unnecessary and pointedly gay on Murdoc's part, and he was liking the little voice less and less by the minute. But deciding to take these words on board, he made his way over to the bass stand.

Stuart watched him carefully as he set down his drink and picked up Vi. Vi was his old bass, from way back before El Diablo. She wasn't anything fancy, but sleek and black in colour, and very well cared for. Only now did he realise that he had missed her.

"Okay, two-dents, I know yer funny about the band business, but you haven't seen what I can do." He said proudly, throwing the strap over his shoulder and plugging the lead into the rusty old amp. He'd forgotten how poor he was back then... now. At this particular juncture "Any requests?"

2D was still a little off. He didn't really want to be here "Know anyfink by the Stranglers?" he asked tentatively. Murdoc was pretty sure he was scared of him. A dark grin spread across his face. Sliding his hand up the neck of the instrument, Murdoc played a few random notes before clearing his throat.

But it didn't come like it usually did. When did this happen? Murdoc had played songs by the Stranglers many times, but when he attempted their song 'Peaches', his hands didn't move. It didn't feel natural. Then a thought struck him. How long had he been playing naturally? Probably a good fifteen years ago, around when he made his deal...

It had been forever since he'd had to try to play, damn it. It just wouldn't come out. 2D was looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised as it had been a good thirty seconds and Murdoc was still just standing there, staring at his bass. So he tried. He searched up the second string, where he was sure the first note must be. The pitch sounds right and, yep, there it is. Now down a string? Yeah, hey, this is easy!

The first three notes were down, and his bass playing sensibilities were coming back to him. The rest was easy to figure out once he'd found the song's positioning on the fret board. He wasn't like he'd been before. No demon bass slayer here, but he was adequate. An acceptable bass player at best, just like he'd been before the deal.

But this angered him. It made him absolutely furious, because he wasn't _good _like he'd been before. He wasn't good without his deal, and it wasn't fair.

Despite being slightly useless, Murdoc played relentlessly, missing quite a few notes and getting things wrong here and there. It was loud. Probably loud enough that if he kept playing it would start to sound good. He was just starting to get into it when yelling and banging came from the front door.

Murdoc grudgingly made his way over, refusing to look Stuart in the eye. He opened the door slowly and it creaked something horrible the whole way. In front of them stood a woman, about thirty, who looked absolutely murderous. She glared at the bass still hanging around Murdoc's neck.

"No doubt that was you, then, mister Niccals?" it wasn't a question, it was a statement. What bothered him was that she knew his name.

"Who the fuck are you?" is how he put it so eloquently.

If she wasn't angry before, she was now "I'm Danielle. I live in the flat below? You're always playing that god damn bass guitar, and I wouldn't mind so much if you were actually good. I can't stand the tuneless thumping. I have a right mind to move out!"

Now he remembered her. Danielle, the frumpy single mum living downstairs. She'd rejected quite a few passes he'd made back in the day.

_This is the day,_ he reminded himself. It was still hard to get used to.

"Feel free to move out any time you want. We'll all miss you Danny, _so_ much." he mocked with a falsely sympathetic smile and slammed the door in her face.

This action was met with more knocking and yelling, ending with an "I'll report you, Niccals!" before she finally left. It was quiet as they waited for her footsteps to fade down the hallway. Murdoc turned around to Stuart, who looked very much as if he'd like to say something.

"Lovely neighbours." he spat out.

"Eh, you lived here for a year already. Get used to it." he went to put Vi back on the bass stand and grabbed his bottle, sitting himself down next to Stuart.

It was quiet for a moment as they sat together. Murdoc was frustrated beyond belief. He couldn't play the bass like he used to, not even close. How was he going to write music for Gorillaz if he couldn't figure out a simple bassline? He couldn't, that's how. Anger was building up within him, and he was just about ready to blow. And then;

"Are you sure about it? I mean, starting a band and that. You're okay but I don't wanna get involved, if you know what I mean." Stuart said, not looking at the bassist.

This, however, was the final straw for Murdoc.

"Okay?" he snapped. Oh, that had done it "Okay? I'm more than fucking okay! I'm Murdoc Niccals, bass player extraordinaire! You don't know who you're messing with! I've got connections with entities bigger than your fucking mouth!"

He jumped up off the sofa, gesturing wildly with his hands. Stuart sat below him, terrified and hugging his knees to his chest. Who was this crazy man he was living with? What was even going on?

He didn't see it coming. Two short and sharp a blows to the head, knocking him sideways. A punch to the already abused eye. Then another, a kick to his ribs, and then a gasp. A choke. Footsteps moving backwards. The room was suddenly empty.

Stuart sat up slowly and groaned. The bassist wasn't around. He didn't want him around. The man was insane And clearly deluded as he couldn't play bass for his life. Seeing his chance, the blue haired boy made a run for the door, almost crying when he found it to be locked.

_This guys a nutter,_ he thought, _what am I getting into?_

He was pretty sure Murdoc would have gone into his bedroom, so he avoided that door while checking all the others. The bathroom was out of the question, the bassist had to go sometime, so eventually Stuart found himself a closet. Shutting the door carefully behind him, 2D leaned against the back wall and slid to the floor. He was still in shock at what was happening. How could his parents agree to letting Niccals take him in? It was crazy! They were all crazy!

He honestly couldn't help it. Stuart began to cry. His ribs were bruised, his eye swollen and he could feel a headache coming on. Wait, did this guy even know about the headaches? Would he have pills? Thinking was making it worse. His head was pounding now, to the point where he had to curl over on the floor, head between his knees. It stank in here. It was hard to breathe. 2D released a sob when he heard footsteps. Oh god, help me now, he thought. He didn't recon he could survive another encounter with this madman.

The soft creak of the closet door was too much for Stuart's headache. He groaned and held his head tighter as the figure leered over him. A cough "I could hear you cryin'." came a voice, still gravelly, but much softer than expected. A bottle of pills rolled themselves towards him in the dark, rattling and finally stopping as a large hand placed itself over it. 2D unscrewed the lid, pouring a few pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He didn't understand.

"I nicked 'em from yer room when I picked you up." Murdoc said, still standing over him, a silhouette in the light pouring into the closet "It's late and we got a lot to do tomorrow. You can, er, have my bed. It's all made up, and stuff."

A pair of hands gripped 2D's arms, pulling him up until he was standing. Murdoc looked so much smaller when he was standing. The bassist attempted to guide him, but 2D pulled himself from his grip, stumbling over to the door to the bedroom. It was quiet for a moment. Stuart stood with his hand on the doorknob, Murdoc waiting for him to enter.

"I, um, thanks." 2D's voice cracked slightly as he spoke. He really wasn't used to this kind of environment, one where he was practically in danger every second of the day. He slammed the door shut as he hid himself inside the small bedroom. He immediately ran towards the window, finding it to be barred shut with what appeared to be wrought iron, which was a good indicator to what kind of neighbourhood Murdoc lived in. Just his luck, locked in some dingy apartment with a basket case. He was genuinely surprised that he'd been given the bed. This Murdoc character seemed the type to lock him in a box as long as it made life easier.

Searching around the room for some kind of file, Stuart was stopped by his reflection in the dirty mirror atop the drawers. He hadn't forgiven Murdoc, for the record. His own appearance scared him, looking like the zombies he usually loved so much; black, sunken eyes, missing jagged teeth, greasy blue hair and limbs so long and skinny it was almost worrying.

_He ruined me,_ he thought, _the guy ruined me, and now I look like him._

The sudden intrusion of thought was unusual for Stuart. As an individual, he didn't really think all that much because it made him hurt. And now with the addition of mild brain damage and worrying thoughts, they scared him. _What do I mean I 'look like him'?_

_Like a demon. Like you just walked out of hell. He changed you_.

Honestly by this point Stuart felt like crying again. He'd lost everything. His job, his looks, his girlfriend before the accident, and even his parents pushed him off onto a psychopathic stranger. Giving up on his search for a file to break out, 2D made his way to the bed, climbing under the covers, still fully clothed.

_He's abusive_. Joy, the thoughts were back. _And he's nasty, and ugly, and he can't actually play bass that well for all he talks. Get away, I gotta get away as soon as possible_.

But there was one part, that Stuart could feel without explanation, that he should be here, with this crazy man.

_You look like him._

_He changed you._

_He's important_.

Back in the living room, Murdoc was sat on the sofa, brooding. He couldn't believe he'd lost it like that on the first day Stuart had agreed to stay with him. He was just so frustrated. It wasn't fair that he couldn't play bass properly, and it wasn't fair that his singer was terrified of him. It was all going wrong.

But there were good sides of this situation too. First off, he wasn't going to lose his soul, huge bonus. Also, it wasn't like he hadn't looked in a mirror lately.

Murdoc had forgotten how good it was to be young. Well, not _young_ young, but thirty two wasn't bad at all. The back pains and constant strains on his muscles had completely vanished, and he wasn't green. That's right ladies and gentlemen, Murdoc Niccals' skin was indeed back to the ugly yellowing tanned colour it had been before, keeping him looking vaguely normal and low key in public. He wasn't famous yet, so the stares would be for completely unwanted reasons. Staring was only good if you were doing something worth looking at.

The nice thing about being young again was that Murdoc's libido had apparently returned at full volume. After all that time spent on plastic beach he had never gone back to shagging a new girl every night, but instead spent a lot of time holed up in his room, waiting for the bogyman.

_Well, no more of that_, he cheerily thought to himself. He had a good mind to find himself a bird tomorrow. He hadn't had a chance since the revival of 1998, too busy making plans and all that. He'd already bought Kong studios online before Stuart got here, because the miracle of it actually being available for free had seemed too good not to be the devils work, but alas that was one coincidence completely unrelated. But the studio was useless when he _couldn't play the fucking bass._

What kind of band could he pull together if he was just some mediocre musician scumbag who couldn't remember a single song he had written before? Satan fucking meant it when he said he'd erase Murdoc's musical memory.

Either way he was going to give it a go. He had a singer who was most likely terrified out of his wits, but would probably do whatever he said, and tomorrow was important. Tomorrow was the day he was going to get Russel.

**And so now there's this :) It's pretty much just their living conditions and how fucking miserable everyone is. But could you imagine being in this position? I didn't know how else to write it. some more pointers as to what may happen (wink wink). Next chapter is very stressful I do warn you. Oh, and I probably won't update as quickly as I did this time I mean this is a record for me Christ you should have seen my old account.**

**Sorry I went off topic thanks for reading leave me some reviews I loved some of the suggestions left last time byee xoxoxo**


	3. Not Marilyn Monroe

'**Aight lads, here's another chapter. Warning, OC inside. There's gonna be a few in this story but they're not total pisshead mary sue type deals so shhhh don't hate me for it. Anyways, enjoy, and thanks for the reviews.**

Not Marilyn Monroe  
  
A rather pleasant dream was inturrupted on Stuart's part by rough tapping on the bedroom door. as he woke up, he realised exactly where he was and sighed miserably.

With no question as to whether Stuart was decent, Murdoc swung the for open, uttering a single word as he stood in the doorway;

"Food."

which to be honest sounded pretty good right about now seeing as his last meal had been at his parent's house. He climbed out of the bed, Murdoc only giving him a brief questioning glance as to why he was sleeping fully clothed. The trip to the table was annoying, because Stuart still had trouble walking on his own and Murdoc insisted on supporting one arm for the whole six foot journey. It was a small apartment.

'food' appeared to be breakfast. a single plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of toast sat on the table. this confused 2D.

"Aren't you eating?" he asked the bassist as he lowered himself into the chair.

In response he received a shrug and Murdoc pointed to the bottle of whiskey still sitting on the counter. booze for breakfast, he thought, classy.

Shovelling the eggs and toast into his mouth 2D was surprised to find it half decent. Murdoc didn't look like a cook, and it was highly possible that this was the only dish he could make without sitting fire to the building. When Murdoc sat down opposite him Stuart knew there was something they had to talk about.

"Listen, Stu, that won't happen again." he said, not looking the singer in the eye "There's things going on that you won't understand, and I'm not gonna try and explain t now, but if you want to leave it's okay. You can go."

2D couldn't believe it. He was allowed to leave just like that? After all the stress put on him when he said he wasn't sure? But now thinking about leaving, the idea of Murdoc on his own was both concerning and mildly unsettling. Not that he wanted to stay with the guy, of course, but someone like him wouldn't fare well without company.

For a fleeting moment he felt bad for wanting to leave. Murdoc had probably gotten used to his presence since he'd been living here for a good year now (well, that's what he'd been told. He was in a coma at the time), and despite last night's incident the bassist seemed desperate to keep him around.

He's a psycho, he quickly reminded himself, bashing down any sentimental bullshit he was developing only now.

"Well, if you don't mind. I, uh, thanks for breakfast and havin' me over and that." He said dully.

Stuart stood up, wandering over to the closet to grab his cane and finding the bag he had brought with him. He could feel the bassist watching his every move, eyes boring into the back of his head. It was uncomfortable and now Stuart was actually starting to feel bad. Why should he though? The guy had cost him his looks and a year of his life, and then has the nerve to demand more of his time invested in a band before beating him up. There was. literally no reason to feel bad about leaving. But then again...

With his hand on the doorknob he felt compelled to say "And thanks for lookin' after me. And waking me up. Bye Murdoc."

He swung the door open and had one foot out of the apartment when a pair of hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him back inside. He was thrown on the sofa, groaning as it irritated his bruises.

"You inconsiderate wanker!" Murdoc was screaming "You absolute shit-eating cunt!"

He slammed the door shut, took 2D's bag into the bedroom and began pacing around the room, back and forth in front of the sofa, muttering obscenities under his breath. Then he stopped, standing as straight as possible and pinching the bridge of his nose. Collecting himself, he sat himself down next to the singer, looking exhausted and highly upset, lighting himself a cigarette before offering one to his companion.

2D was wide eyed and very confused "But you said-"

"It was a test." He snapped "It was a test to see if you were at all interested in the band business, and you chose to leave! You were just gonna up and leave me here, all alone, just like that..."

Murdoc faded off into silence, a shaken Stuart next to him. The singer looked away for a moment, deciding that this was awkward enough, but then he heard a sniff.

"I- Murdoc?" He asked, shocked at what he was seeing. The bassist's head hung in his hands, palms rubbing at his eyes, shoulders hunched and looking more depleted than usual. For a moment it really did look like he was crying.

It was over as quickly as it started and the bassist sprang up, shuffling things about on the kitchen counter, looking for something. Murdoc wasn't the type for all that, right? Stuart had to mind himself never to bring that up. He had no idea what was wrong with this man but it wasn't his business either. Best to leave it alone.

"It's bizarre, Stu-pot. Really crazy shit what I know and you don't. I just can't believe how _different_ you are without all that... I dunno what to call it. I mean sweet Sa-" he stopped himself. It didn't feel right to bother with the satanic business now that he'd gotten out of it "It's just so… surreal, you know? Crazy, crazy shit. Ooh, found my keys!"

The two of them were in Murdoc's car within minutes. It was surprisingly nice. An expensive old BMW model, not particularly well cared for but quite impressive that he could afford it. Little did the singer know that Murdoc had nicked it from a Mark's and Spencer's parking lot the day after the accident that revived him. Like the bassist always said, 'if you're shopping in M&S, you're probably the kind of posh wanker who leaves his car doors open'. 

The drive was short, and soon they were outside a shop that 2D didn't recognise at all "Big Rick Black's record shack?" he read out loud "Are we buying records?"

"Naw, it's not records we want, it's who sells 'em. Now you be a good boy and wait outside. Look out for strangers, yeah?" 2D flinched when Murdoc went to pat him on the head. Christ, he wasn't a dog. Without waiting for a reply Murdoc walked into the store, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He searched through isles, spending a couple of minutes in the punk section before making his way to the counter.

He learnt this trick from his old friend, Tiny. If you look at the person you're trying to kidnap, they can tell you're up to no good because no matter how much you convince yourself you're not nervous, they can still see the rush in your eyes. Murdoc preferred not to think about what Tiny did in his spare time.

Leaning backwards on the counter, Murdoc spoke to open air "You got anything by the Clash back there?" he asked. nonchalantly.

"Yeah, 'course. Any specific record you lookin' for?"

Murdoc's head snapped around to look at where the voice was coming from. Yeah, it was an employee all right, but it sure wasn't Russel.

Meanwhile outside 2D was starting to get bored. He'd considered making a run for it a couple of times, but was it really worth it? Murdoc had literally cried at the fact he was going to leave, so he must care about his wellbeing to some extent. That had shaken 2D a little to be honest, not really being the most competent emotionally. Either way he'd pretty much decided he'd stay with the guy for now. And bands were cool. In fact they were _the status symbol_ of cool.

Finally, a positive thought process on the situation. Everything was going quite well until a certain someone spotted him across the street.

"Stu-pot!" She called, running across the road. She stopped just in front of the singer, smiling up at him with a cute buck-toothed grin "It's great to see you. I heard about the accident from your uncle, when'd you get out the hospital?"

2D couldn't help grinning. Paula Cracker. She used to buy guitar strings from his uncles shop. He'd always quite fancied her, actually.

"'Bout a month ago actually. Ain't you noticed my eyes yet? That's the first thing most people comment on." It was a sad truth. Since he got out the only thing his old friends had said to him were various forms of 'nice to see you alive but you look fucking terrifying'. He didn't have very good friends. Half the reason he agreed to be in Murdoc's band in the first place was because he was the only person fully used to the way he looked. In fact, Murdoc thought he looked good. If he thought about it too much he got all depressed and soul-searchy.

Paula shook her head "Nah, I'm guessing you get enough of that. 'Course I noticed though, it's kinda hard to miss, eh? Did they ever catch the guy what did it?"

Stuart laughed at that one. "Funny story, I'm actually living with him now. Half decent bloke, a little off his rocker. He's just in that shop there pickin' up our drummer."

"That's mental." she laughed too. Stuart felt giddy "And your drummer? What, you in a band now?"

"Yeah, startin' one." and he couldn't stop smiling.

Back inside the shop, Murdoc was fuming, staring at the person behind the counter.

"So let me get this straight. Russel Hobbs doesn't work here, never has worked here, and isn't in line for employment?"

The girl shook her head, expression one of extreme focus, although she seemed to be having difficulty. Probably the most noticeable difference between her and Russel was that she was a tall, skinny white girl. Kind of hard to mistake. That and she looked like an idiot with half her head shaved and that short, incredibly bright ginger hair "No, sir. I don't know no Russel Hobbs neither."

With this Murdoc literally screamed in frustration. He kicked the counter a few times, knocking over a stack of records in the process. The girl, surprisingly enough, didn't seem fazed at all, not even looking at the disks scattered across the floor.

"You seem stressed, sir, would 'ya like some tea?" she tried, pulling up the counter entrance, pointing to the door to the back room.

It took a good minute to calm down and answer her question. He looked back out the front of the shop, seeing what appeared to be Stuart preoccupied talking to some girl. He could only see the back of her head from this angle, _He should be safe_, he thought, but the thought irked him, as if he could feel that the woman was bad news.

"Yeah, go on then." he looked her over. She seemed a little dim, but perfectly bangable if he got the chance. He'd always had a thing for redheads and he doubted he'd ever seen hair that orange "Or summink stronger if you got it."

She led him into the back room, which consisted of a table, three chairs, a kettle and a mini fridge under a sterile flickering light. Not the nicest of places to be when you're having a crisis but it'd do. The girl busied herself with tea making and Murdoc sat on a chair, head in his hands for the second time that morning. With all that was going wrong he half considered re-selling his soul, but at this juncture it probably wouldn't be certain that he'd get all his old band mates anyway. In all honesty, he really missed having Russel around. They'd actually been quite good friends at the beginning, before things started to go wrong. She set a cup of tea down in front of him and sat down herself, straight away drinking the boiling hot beverage.

Murdoc groaned "You don't happen to be a drummer, do you?" he asked in jest. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"'Ave we met?" her voice was scratchy, high pitched like a twelve year old.

"What, are you?"

"Yeah."

Well, it wasn't Russel, in fact it was pretty much the anti-Russel, but it was something. They needed a drummer and they needed one now, before Stuart really did leave and so that they could finally play some music, and he couldn't go back out there empty handed. Murdoc decided that he'd continue his hunt for Russel, but use this girl as a temporary drummer. Not that she needed to know that.

"What's yer name, love?" he asked, leaning casually on one elbow. Now that she had something he wanted, it was second nature to pour on the charm.

Not that it had much effect. Nothing in herbody language showed that she even noticed "Marilyn Jones. Why, you lookin' for a drummer?" but the desired results were found.

"Of sorts, yeah. I'm Murdoc Niccals, bass player and leader of the spectacular new band, Gorillaz. I think it would be a very wise decision for you to join up, once in a lifetime opportunity, you know."

"Really? Well if you want me on board then I'm cool.."

"Good. Then you'll need to quit your job, leave home, pack a bag and come to the new HQ. I'll drive you so don't worry about that."

For a moment she just sat there looking puzzled. He was sure she was going to decline and decide that the commitment was too great, but to his surprise she come out of her stupor and nodded enthusiastically.

"Sure thing, I aint got much on anyway. Just let me leave a note." With this she got up and opened one of the cupboards above the fridge (as she did so her shirt rode up a little, revealing a flat, pale stomach. Even for this halfwit Murdoc's revived young libido went crazy. Damn it he needed to get laid) and pulled out a pen, some paper, and a hiker's backpack that contained a few sets of clothes, money, and a sleeping bag.

When the bassist just stared at her she shrugged "I live here. Pretty sweet deal, really. I work where I sleep and that, but it's the same thing where we're going too, right? I don't got to buy a house or nuffink?"

"Course not, It's all free." He replied, slightly dazed. He hadn't had a good shag in over a month and being in a secret room at the back of an empty store with a fuckable young girl was an ideal situation. Then an idea struck him

"That is, if yer willing to pay another way." He said in the most flirtatious way possible, pushing her away from the door and leaning against it, blocking her way out.

It irritated him slightly that she didn't seem to get it "I only got 'bout seventy quid in here, Murdoc."

She was very confused when he sauntered forwards, cornering her back against the opposite wall. He placed a hand on her hip "Look here, Marilyn, love, you gotta work your way up in this business. I don't think a quick shag is much to ask for, right? Just a one-time thing, 'course."

His face was close enough to hers that they were breathing the same air. At his words her already pale face turned practically white. Despite her height she ducked under the shorter man's arm and made for the door. She coughed and then laughed nervously.

"Look, mate, I'm all up for the band business, I _really_ don't think my girlfriend would like that all too much."

It took a moment for Murdoc to realize what she was saying "Oh, right. Shit, sorry love. Didn't realize you were, eh, _that_ way." This was embarrassing to new levels. It was better to get outside where Stuart should still be. Maybe some new introductions would distract her from this horrible predicament. He pushed past her and made his way to the shop exit. He could hear her following him, so she obviously didn't take too much offence to what he had tried. Well, that was a potential screw around out the window.

Once outside he was bombarded with a grinning 2D. Well, this was new.

"Look Murdoc, I found us a guitarist! We need a guitarist, right? This is Paula." He gestured to the dark haired girl standing next to him. It was the bassist who now turned pale, grimacing at the memory of hearing Paula Cracker's fate.

It was out of the question "No inter-band relationships. She aint joining." He snapped. He ignored 2D's face turning red at the statement, and his weak protest of 'We're not dating…' and stepped aside to reveal the girl behind him "This is Marilyn Monroe, our new drummer."

"Marilyn Monroe?" 2D questioned.

"No," she said, looking at Murdoc sideways "Marilyn Jones. Much less fancy. That Marilyn Monroe business makes me uncomfortable and I don't like her much at all."

Paula tutted "Naw, come on, Marilyn was one of the greatest women of her time."

"I don't even know what she did. Was she like a singer or summink?" 2D tried to contribute. The girls laughed at him and he joined in, not sure what was funny.

_Of course two-dents and Marilyn would get on,_ Murdoc thought bitterly. He didn't like the idea that his band mates liked each other more than him, _they're both fucking idiots anyway_.

"Nice to see we're getting along, yeah? Come on, two-dents, we're going to the new studio." Murdoc interrupted their conversation. He was half way to the car when he realised nobody was following him. He turned around and looked at the three of them expectantly.

"But is Paula in the band?" 2D asked. Surprisingly enough, Marilyn nodded along hopefully. Damn it she had just met the girl.

"No no no, I've made this mistake before. No fuckable women in the band. It's a rule."

Stuart's dark eyes widened "Murdoc that's rude, you just got Marilyn-"

"Lesbian." He interrupted, hopping into the driver's seat "Now come on, let's go to HQ. Oh, and Paula can come along, but she's not in the band."

They all seemed to agree to this and filed into the car, 2D riding shotgun while the girls sat in the back, talking animatedly. The Paula business was bothering him. He had hoped that they would never meet, and therefore there would be no impact on her life and he could get away guilt free. It was well known to Murdoc that about three months on from now it would be revealed that Paula had a personality disorder that made her prone to outbursts and irrational thinking. Nothing she could do with Stuart would end well.

While discussing things I the car it turned out that Marilyn had a friend who was a talented guitarist and just so happened to be looking to start a band himself. Murdoc instantly agreed, seeing as it would be four months until it was time to put out the ad for Noodle.

But that got him thinking. If he couldn't find Russel where he was originally supposed to be, why would Noodle be any different? It was a huge coincidence that they got her anyway, so now without any help it was even less likely.

Today had been semi-successful. There was no telling what could happen tomorrow.

**So yes, an OC. No, seriously I need them to make this story work, and trust me Marilyn is not a Mary-Sue type deal. She's an acceptable drummer, kinda dumb and there's no way she's getting paired up with either of our boys (god that scene was painful though I mean could you imagine Murdoc hitting on a lesbian I had to write it in somewhere it was just too funny to me). I tried to make her into the anti-Russel but idk if it worked my ideas for this character ran away and now I want to write a real people book with her in it.**

**And Paula too! Yay! I love me some Paula Cracker she's the best. Oh, and personally I love Marilyn Monroe there's just nothing in relation between her and this character so it makes me laugh.**

**Theres a lot of authors notes today. And I just wanna say im sorry be patient, there's some actual hints of studoc content in the next chapter I know you've been waiting it takes a while they only just met and now theres a paula so be prepared for studoc business.**

**Thanks for reading xoxoxo**


	4. Filthy Degenerates

**Christ, okay, I am so sorry this is late. I've been on holiday and there was no wifi and grrrr I wrote all of this on my phone. Either way it's another introduction chapter type thing welcome welcome more OCs yay. This guy gets dark do not let him fool you. Warnings: Murdoc is shirtless for the majority of this chapter.**

Filthy Degenerates

The first week living together had been several kinds of hell for Murdoc.

First of all he'd forgotten how much work it had taken to make Kong studios inhabitable, and how much Russel had done to help renovate the place. Luckily despite his own laziness and 2D being a total wuss, Marilyn happened to be easy to manipulate and so was talked into most of the heavy lifting. Also Paula had been around quite a lot since two days after moving in her and 2D had started dating. She had helped decorate the rooms and organise furniture, because she claimed she 'had an eye' for this sort of thing. Murdoc distinctly remembered her doing this last time, too.

The second problem was purely social. Since 2D and Paula were together, the singer had been focusing on a Murdoc and the band less. This would be okay, except the bassist couldn't do what he did last time, he knew the consequences too well and no matter how heartless he came across as he still didn't want to be responsible for someone's death. She needed to go, but how?

And as it turns out, Marilyn was a bit of a problem too. She pretty much did what Murdoc said in the beginning, but now she was getting closer to 2D and Paula it was causing strain on the band. It was fine when there were an even number on each team, but now team 'let Paula in the band' had three members and Murdoc was only one. Marilyn was a zombie fan too. Her and the singer got on too well for the bassist's liking.

But she was an adequate drummer. They has practiced for the first time in the big recording studio, and as expected Stuart's vocals were that of an angel. Marilyn was okay but the same could not be said for Murdoc. He was still struggling to play properly, like he used to, and had been practicing on his own every night in his room. He still didn't have the Winnie yet, which reminded him, he hadn't gotten laid in over a month and a half. It was really starting to piss him off.

Fortunately, as promised by our new favourite ginger, a guitarist was on his way over tonight to audition for the band. It wasn't like Murdoc was going to say no. If he did, the other two would jump on it and insist that Paula join instead which was completely out of the question. Besides, this guy was just a stand in until Noodle arrived.

It was only 20 minutes until the guy was supposed to show up and Murdoc was ordering Marilyn around, getting her to put out chairs and amps and stuff. As a drummer she really didn't know how amps worked and had to endure the bassists yelling when she didn't know how to set them up. It was weird, this was exactly how he had treated 2D last time.

But now it was like a game. With no help Murdoc's nerves were shot through, constantly worrying that the singer would just up and leave. He really had no idea why he hadn't already. The guy obviously didn't like him and he wasn't a very good musician, and plus he had Paula to fall back on. All this thinking was making the bassist clam up. Damn it he was getting precautionary in his old age.

Fuck, he thought, I'm 47 in a 34 year olds body.

And with that, he realised that he himself was completely different this time round. He wasn't as reckless and demanding. He was soft. No, no he wasn't having that. Time to bring out the ego.

Every ounce of professionalism left his being. Murdoc practically ripped his shirt off over his head, revealing a tanned and slightly flabby torso he'd forgotten he had, but it looked young, and it looked good. He hadn't been doing what he used to do, one important thing being the partial nudity. Murdoc forgot that he liked being half naked. Especially with this body.

"Oi, Murdoc, what you doing?" a confused 2D watched him throw his shirt to the floor. That was when he realised he wasn't alone in the room.

When had the singer gotten here? He was busy connecting leads to various guitars as keyboards, only just having looked up to what at this stage could be considered an unusual scene to him. Despite having lived with him for a while now, he had never seen the bassist in anything other than baggy jumpers and long sleeved shirts.

"It's fuckin' hot in here. Someone needs to fix that shitty heating system. The fuck are you doin'?" the aggressive tone in his voice caused the singer to flinch back. Murdoc had a sudden case of de ja vu.

"Well, I, uh, Marilyn can't do the amps so I'm doin' it. She's upstairs with Paula."

"Paula? Why the fuck is that cow here? We're recruiting band members, not hosting a social!" he was yelling now, but it wast like anyone could hear him. Kong was far too big for that.

2D didn't look to happy about his comments "Oi, that cow is my girlfriend. You fuckin' well leave her alone." he turned away from the fuming bassist to continue with checking the amp leads "What's a 'social' anyway? Christ, how fuckin' old are you?"

That's what did it. Murdoc leaped forwards, knocking the younger man over along with several pieces of studio equipment. He landed a blow on 2D's chest, winding him before grabbing his collar and smashing the back of his head against the concrete floor. The singer was gasping, clawing at Murdoc's wrists as he tried to push him off.

"Yeah, these guys are great, I'm sure you'll fit right in-" Marilyn cut her sentence short as she walked in on the scene, three bodies in tow behind her.

Murdoc looked up to see that people had arrived. Him and 2D exchanged a wary glance before the bassist promptly jumped up from the floor and brushed down his jeans. Stuart shook as he stood up, holding the back of his head carefully, only bringing one hand away to check wether he was bleeding, which luckily enough he wasn't. Murdoc went to sit in the front central chair and 2D followed suit, sitting beside him.

The air was awkward. Paula quickly rushed to the singers side, parting his hair and checking his head herself. She attempted a nasty look in Murdoc's direction but it became more sultry the longer she looked at him in his half naked glory. Thick greasy hair, dirty tanned skin and mismatched eyes. Her reasoning for the sudden attraction was; 'hey, who wouldn't go for that?'. The truth was: most people.

Back to the newbies. Marilyn lead in two people, one skinny young man with hair the colour of caramel and a slightly larger young woman with hair the colour of snow.

"Who's this then? Why's there two?" Murdoc snapped, still irritant at the intrusion on his fight.

Marilyn looked very much concerned at his anger "This here's Richmond, our guitar lad. And my mate Nikki, his girlfriend."

More fucking girlfriends around the place. Fucking great, he thought. However, he jumped up, forcing a positive vibe.

"Great, great, nice to meet you." he grinned at them, shaking Richmond's hand. To be honest the first impression wasn't that great- the guy was wearing a suit. A navy blue skinny legged suit, Chelsea boots and a black tie over his pristine white shirt. Overdressed? yes. Young and attractive? Yes. It would ruin Murdoc's image as the band's heartthrob (well that's his opinion anyway).

He wasn't expecting the overly positive attitude "Awlright mate? I heard you was starting a band of sorts, yes? Guitar, yes?" it was a nice change in the works. Like when he had first met Marilyn and she was exited to join the band, it reminded him of 2D the way he was before.

"Yeah, go on then. Set up, tell us 'bout yerself and play us a little something something." And with that he went back to his chair, spreading his legs apart lazily. Christ, he could feel his old charm working its way back. Paula was still looking.

Richmond ran over to the amps, yelling "Cool, cool!" as he did. This kid was bizarre. Marilyn and the guitarist's girlfriend (he hadn't caught her name) sat down in the two seats on the other side of Murdoc. The girl was chubby but had some pretty big tits, and as she was wearing a low cut khaki jumper the bassist was mildly distracted while the instruments were being set up.

"Okay." Richmond said, smiling at his small audience "I'm ready to rock 'n' roll, just tell me what to play."

"Try us some sabbath and we'll see how it goes." Murdoc drawled lazily. This received a slightly odd look from the boy in front of him. He couldn't really be called a 'man', as such, he looked far too young and could probably pass for seventeen if it weren't for his dark, sunken eyes. You couldn't even see his irises.

Richmond coughed "I dunno much sabbath, not a fan myself. Not so much into the metal."

This irked Murdoc slightly. Even through the positive attitude, he wasn't like Marilyn in that he didn't follow orders. Successful bands followed the leader, and there was no way he was being thrown out of that position.

"'Aight then, play me some Who. You look like you just stepped out of mod-era sixties." the bassist rolled his eyes and leaned back further into the chair, half his body practically hanging off. His head slumped onto 2D's upper arm, and he was irritated as the singer shook him off.

Requesting for some mod-rock seemed the right move as Richmond's eyes lit up. Murdoc had originally said it as an insult, but this was a better outcome. He'd never much liked mods, being a metal head himself. The well-dressed side of youth culture had never appealed to him and he was pretty sure it wasn't popular anymore either.

The guitarist went straight to it, playing the part to 'behind blue eyes', before going straight into the power chords for 'my generation'. He was good, but then again what he was playing was relatively easy. Acceptable.

"Yeah, yeah." Murdoc interrupted him "You're in, pack yer guitar away and pick a room. You can move in within the week." The bassist promptly stood up, waving for Richmond to follow him up the stairs. The guitarist looked ecstatic.

"Oi, wait, why is he in? Paula's way better than that." 2D was giving him lip again. And the questioning, fucking Christ, he couldn't explain this business to him.

"Cause I like the kid, and I fucking say so." he argued back. Stuart looked furious, still rubbing his head and standing up, Paula trying to pull him back, whispering things in his ear. Richmond didn't know whether to continue smiling or not, and so now stood awkwardly holding his guitar, grimacing like he was constipated.

But 2D had gotten his confidence back brim earlier and walked straight up to Murdoc, looking down at him so they were face to face "Listen, you old goth, you ain't the only person in this band. You better start listening to me and Marilyn, or we'll up and leave. Or kick you out yerself!"

This was a very wrong thing to say. Even the idea of 2D leaving the band got Murdoc stressed enough to break down, so saying it to his face was cry-worthy, like we had seen before. But he couldn't get like that on front of all these people, and the singer needed to learn how to mind his own fucking business.

"How many fucking times," the bassist panted, trying to keep his emotions strictly on the anger scale "Do I have to beat you up to get it across? It's my band, my members, you're fucking mine! You leave and I'll fucking kill you!"

So for the second time that day Murdoc took a swing at the singer. The blue haired man fell back, no longer confident and clutching his eye, landing in front of Richmond's feet. The guitarist went to lift him up by the shoulders, but was interrupted.

"Nah mate, leave him. And you lot go upstairs. Yes, you too," he added to Paula who was looking between 2D and Murdoc confusedly "Marilyn, take Richmond to a spare room. You, er, blondie, follow them." He looked down at Stuart who was still holding his eye, moaning slightly "I've got business to attend to."

Richmond walked past, following Marilyn who gave Murdoc a piercing angry look. He knew that she wouldn't do shit all. Marilyn could look threatening when she wanted to, but had the nerves of a kitten "I, er, thanks mate. Looks real good round here. Lots of fun, and nice theatrics. I'll be moved in by tomorrow, yeah?"

The line of people filed anxiously from the room, Paula taking up the rear. She looked back from the stairwell, glancing between the two men.

"Nah love, ain't nothing to see here." Murdoc grumbled, waving her away. As he turned around to face Stuart she eyed his back hungrily. Things had changed somehow. Murdoc was different, and she wasn't sure it was a good thing.

The bassist stood, watching 2D cower on the floor, waiting for Paula to finally leave. When he was sure she was gone, he sauntered forwards. The singer crawled backwards like a crab, desperately trying to put more space between them and failing when he backed up into a wall between two giant speakers.

"Murdoc, look, I, I'm sorry. I dunno what I was sayin'. I didn't mean it." he begged, curling up into the feral position and expecting a prod of hurt to come his way.

Instead, he was surprised when two slightly sweaty hands pulled him up so he was sitting, and slowly pulled his arms down so the bassist could take a look at his eye. The singer sat, scared out of his wits as he kneeled down, gently brushing the purpling bruise with his thumb and muttering to himself.

"Shit, D," Murdoc said, startling him with his voice. Christ, the kid hasn't been this jumpy since he'd first moved in "what is it 'bout your eyes? Just can't leave 'em alone, can I?"

He pushed the singer over so that he could sit in-between the speakers with him. 2D didn't know what to do, and considered running before a pair of strong, tanned arms pulled him to the bassist, making escape impossible without being entirely rude and inducing more wrath.

"Listen, there's a lot of strange business going on around here, and I can't do with people not following orders, you know? It stresses me out stu-pot. You can't leave. Don't leave me."

Stuart didn't know how to react to this new situation. He could hear the older man's heartbeat, his head being held to a moderately hairy chest. It wasn't unpleasant, albeit a little weird. Well, actually a lot weird. He thought the guy was going to beat him to shit, and now they were, what could this bizarre consolation he called, cuddling?

"I mean, it's not like I can explain it without sounding like a mental case, but if I could say it and have you believe me I really would. I promise you it's all for a greater good. You know that right?" a sniffle.

Fuck this. He'd never been this emotional before and it was horribly out of character, but as he kept reminding himself, he'd been through a lot of shit and this was hard. Much harder than it had been the first time round, and the majority of the company was only just bearable.

But 2D had heard his sniff and was looking up at him with deep, black eyes, one bruised and purpling, with so much worry it was hard to comprehend. All he could do was stare back, sure his own expression was giving off much more than he would like.

"It's alright, Murdoc," the singer said, putting his head back down and wrapping his arms around the bassist's middle "I ain't gonna leave ya."

It was quiet for a while as they sat there. The warmth from one another was strangely comforting.

"Hey, D, we're friends, right?" the bassist asked, slightly nervous for the reply.

It took a moment for 2D to answer. This man was clearly seven different kinds of messed up and potentially crazy, but Stuart liked him, and he was offering him more than just a band. This place was the only home he'd known besides his parents house, and he'd made some great friends since meeting Murdoc. Things were getting worse, but getting better at the same time if that made any sense. Murdoc made things happen.

"Yeah, Muds. We're friends."

**So yeah this is where the Studoc starts. You're welcome. No really im sorry this took six days I'm making up for it the next chapter might be posted by tomorrow so thanks for reading bye lovies xoxoxo**


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